The Fugitive
by Cora Clavia
Summary: AU. "Your fugitive's name is Mr. Richard Castle."
1. Chapter 1

I love and adore _The Fugitive_. If you haven't seen it, please just go watch it right now. This is a take on that story, very much leaning on the movie, but with the characters from _Castle_.

It is dedicated to Polly Lynn with a hundred million thanks for all of her help in turning this from a silly idea into an actual thing with a plot and words and stuff. She's the reason it exists. I made the mistake of saying how neat I thought a Castle-version of _The Fugitive_ would be in my outside-my-head voice. She then telepathically tricked me into writing it.

* * *

><p>ILLINOIS DEPT. OF CORRECTIONS: INMATE TRANSPORT<p>

Richard Castle shuffled onto the inmate transport bus, his shackles clinking, and settled wearily into the nearest seat. The guards took a final head count and nodded to the driver, and the bus rumbled as the old engine kicked into gear. Rick sighed, sinking back against the uncomfortable vinyl seat.

First-degree murder.

Lethal injection.

He didn't remember hearing the words. He'd gone completely numb in the courtroom. Later his attorney had told him about the gasp from the observers, Alexis and his mother sobbing, the judge calling for order. A murder mystery novelist charged with murdering his wife had turned into the trial of the century, and within minutes, the news had hit every media outlet in the country: Richard Castle, bestselling author of the Derek Storm series, found guilty of murdering his wife, Meredith Harper.

His lawyers had immediately started chattering about appeals and motions and stays and other things, and they were probably right, but he'd seen the expressions on the jurors' faces. Heard the stony resignation in the judge's voice. They all believed he did it. Twenty-six bestselling books that now stood as proof that he not only thought about killing people; he had turned it into an art.

The sound of retching pulled him out of the grim solace of his thoughts and back to the bus. Hal Lockwood, a few seats behind him, was coughing, frothing at the mouth, his skin greyish and covered with a thin sheen of sweat. Coonan, next to him, started barking at the guard. "Do something! This guy's dying here!"

The guard, a rotund, sour-faced man who'd clearly stopped caring about a decade ago, lumbered to the back, muttering. "All right, what's -"

It all happened in the blink of an eye - Coonan grabbed the guard's the gun, there was a bang, suddenly the driver was slumped over the wheel.

The bus veered sharply, bumping hard as they drifted off the road, sending Castle sprawling onto the floor, grunting in pain. The guard's hoarse shouts were drowned out as Lockwood, clearly not dying anymore, threw him down and found his keys, unlocking his shackles.

The bus lurched to a sudden stop, and Castle crawled back up to his seat to discover they'd come to a stop on a set of train tracks.

And there were lights. Train lights, barreling down on them.

Ignoring the yells from the other inmates, Castle took a deep breath, frantic. Lockwood was fumbling with Coonan's shackles; Coonan had grabbed his arm and wasn't letting go, screaming there was no way he was leaving him behind. The key fell from Lockwood's hands, skittering across the floor to Castle, who grabbed it. Lockwood came after him; Castle swung his legs up and kicked him in the face, watching him drop to the floor, unconscious. The guard had bailed out the front gate, pulling it shut and locked it behind him; Castle unlocked himself, tossing aside his shackles. _Shit. _The train let out a blast. Too close.

He pounded on the window by his seat; it didn't give. So he leaned back in his seat, kicking. Still nothing.

_Alexis, I'm not going to die here_.

He gritted his teeth and kicked harder, once, twice, finally feeling the window break away, letting in a blast of cold night air.

With all his strength, he threw himself out of the window, just as the train came bearing down on them in a deadly crash of steel and breaking glass and a shower of sparks. The train shuddered, scraping at the tracks, and as he scrambled up the embankment and out of the path of destruction, he watched the two vehicles plunge down into the ravine. The bus was a crushed mess of twisted metal and flames; the locomotive was smoking. He saw an engineer scramble out of it, clearly not seriously wounded.

He was about to step forward, but then he remembered: lethal injection.

What could they do to him now?

He ran off into night.

* * *

><p>The early spring air was crisp, a hint of ice hanging on the fringes of the cold Midwestern night, as Kate and her team stepped out of the black SUV and into the chaos of the train crash, floodlights and flashes and police everywhere. She shook her head.<p>

"What a mess."

Lanie had already spotted the coroner and headed over to confer with him. Kate took a long look at the crash site, noting the crushed mess of the bus, the snapped trees, the light dusting of snow over the ground. The train was still half on the tracks, the rear cars intact, but the locomotive and first few were a lost cause.

A rookie in a uniform just a bit too big for him walked up, clearly about to politely ask her to leave. Kate opened her jacket, revealing her silver star. "Hi. Who's in charge?"

He pointed her towards the sheriff, standing right in the middle of the perfect example of why she hated media circuses. She sighed. "Wonderful."

Esposito just laughed. "You know how to pick 'em."

"Next time, remind me how much I love the boring cases."

Lanie was nearby, still talking with the county coroner, several tarp-covered corpses next to them. "Beckett, we've got a count so far. Prisoners confirmed dead: Simmons, Vulcan; Coonan, Richard; Tyson, Jerry; Maddox, Cole; Tisdale, Harrison."

"That leaves us with -" Ryan checked his notes. "One. Richard Castle."

She blinked. "The author?"

"The same." Ryan tucked his notebook into his pocket. "I'm going to take a closer look. Yell if you need me."

He headed towards the wreckage, pacing carefully down into the ravine. Kate and Esposito followed the cameras to find the local sheriff, basking, interviewing a dusty, rattled, bruised man in a prison guard's uniform.

"Excuse me, Sheriff Sorenson? Deputy U.S. Marshal Kate Beckett."

The square-jawed sheriff held up an impatient hand. "I'll be with you in a minute." He turned back to the guard, yammering about how heroically the guy had essentially run away from a crash, and Kate couldn't help but notice their profiles were perfectly silhouetted in the sun. Well, well. Sheriff Cheekbones must be up for re-election.

"Any of the prisoners run? Looks like we found most of 'em already," he asked the guard.

The guy shook his head. "All in the bus when it got hit. I don't think any of 'em made it out."

Finally, Sorenson thanked him and turned back to Kate. "I'm sorry you came out here for nothing, ma'am. My men have already done a search, from point of impact, and we've got nothing."

Kate wanted to tell him where he could take his pathetic search efforts, but remembered - media. He was young for a sheriff. May as well cultivate a spirit of cooperation. "With all due respect, may I suggest checkpoints starting at a 15-mile radius on I-57, I-24, Route 13 east of -"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa...for what?" Sorenson shook his head. "Prisoners are all dead. The only thing checkpoints will do is get a lot of good people out here frantic and flood my office with calls."

The hell with it. "Well, shit, sheriff, I'd hate for that to happen. And that's why I'm going to take over the investigation."

Esposito, beside her, let out a snort. She didn't often bother with profanity. The sheriff sputtered, glaring, and clearly wanted to say something sharp, but mindful of the TV cameras and microphones, he just growled. "On whose authority?"

"By authority of the Governor of the State of Illinois and the office of the United States Marshal, 5th District, Northern Illinois. Espo?"

Esposito smiled sweetly, handing over the official warrant. The sheriff read it, glowering, sending Kate a look of death. She wished he'd hurry up. Her toes were freezing.

Finally, he shrugged. "You want jurisdiction over this mess? You got it." Sorenson looked around. "All right, boys. We're heading out. We got Wyatt Earp and her posse, gonna take it from here."

Kate rolled her eyes. _How clever_.

"Beckett!"

The shout came from Ryan, who was trotting up the hill, holding up -

"Well. Look at that, Sheriff." She raised an eyebrow, turning back to the guard. "We're always fascinated when we find leg irons with no legs in them. Who held the keys?"

The guard got a look Kate knew well from interrogation rooms - it was the visible squirm.

"Me."

"Your name?"

"Bill Davis."

"Where are those keys at now, Davis?"

"Um...I don't know."

Ryan made a face, pulling out his notepad again. "Care to revise your statement, sir?"

The cop blinked at Ryan. "What?"

Esposito stepped in to clarify. "You want to change your bullshit story?"

Davis stammered for a moment, but even before he spoke, Kate knew exactly what he was going to say.

"That guy, Castle. He - he might have gotten away."

The press erupted in cameras and questions, the sheriff swearing at Davis, and she had to raise her voice to reach the officers.

"Alright, listen up, people. Our fugitive has been on the run for ninety minutes. Average foot speed over uneven ground, barring injuries, is 4 miles per hour. That gives us a radius of six miles." She held up six fingers for emphasis. Might as well make it simple. "What I want from each and every one of you is a hard-target search of every gas station, residence, warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse and doghouse in that area. Checkpoints go up at fifteen miles." She paused. "Your fugitive's name is Mr. Richard Castle. Go get him."


	2. Chapter 2

a/n: While yes, I used _The Fugitive _as a template, please rest assured I didn't just copy the script, search and replace 'Kimble' with Castle, 'Gerard' with 'Beckett,' etc. You will recognize a lot from the movie, including some of my favorite lines. But it's not a carbon copy.

* * *

><p>The Marshals' field tent went up quickly, giving them a decent base of operations. Her people buzzed around, the crime scene techs doing their best to find any kind of evidence amid the wreckage. Kate surveyed her team, relishing the tidiness of well-run, efficient investigation. The early March air was still biting, and she stuffed her hands in her pockets, taking a slow lungful. Kate wasn't in her element out here. She was a city girl.<p>

"Beckett! Hounds are here."

She turned to find Lanie trotting up with a team of two lanky, slobbering bloodhounds from the city. "Good. And wow, they look so graceful."

Lanie scratched the bigger dog's ears. "You laugh all you want, but Gil is the best hound in the Midwest. If Castle's out there, Gil will find him."

"Go ahead. Espo's got the leg irons over in processing; you can probably use those for a scent."

Lanie and the dogs' handler disappeared, leaving her tent headquarters empty.

Well, almost.

She paused. "Ryan, what are you doing?"

"I'm thinking."

"Well, think me up a cup of coffee and a bear claw, while you're at it."

"Beckett!" Esposito came running, radio in hand. "Just got a report. Some woman on I-57 just swore she saw Richard Castle outside a gas station there, in, quote, 'some weird yellow onesie that doesn't look like it fits very well.'"

"Well, that's odd."

He nodded. "And he stole the attendant's truck. And a set of mechanic's coveralls."

"You probably could have led with that."

He flashed her a grin. "I like to keep you on your toes."

"All right, people," she yelled. "Let's bring him in."

* * *

><p>The chopper took them up above the woods, into the clear, and Kate leaned over the front console to watch the highway. "Ryan," she shouted into her microphone. "Ryan, from the description, we've got eyeballs on him. Heading west on 57, right around mile marker 45. White pickup truck. You've got a tunnel about a mile ahead, and there are squad cars on the way. You should be able to pin him down there."<p>

"Understood," Ryan responded. "We see him up ahead."

* * *

><p>Rick heard sirens blaring behind him, but just gunned the accelerator harder. The highway tore by as he wove through the other cars, in and out of lanes, earning honks and glares.<p>

He got into the tunnel, wondering if he could lose them, but then he saw the flood of lights racing towards him, the chopper landing just outside. He was trapped. Both sides.

So he slammed the truck into a skid, gritting his teeth as it slid sideways and screeched to a halt in the oncoming traffic lane, very nearly causing a ten-car pileup.

He slipped out of the driver's side, crouching to hurry around the front of the truck. The traffic caught in the crosshairs was helping; he could hear the police yelling at civilians to get back in their cars, buying him time.

Time was fine, but he needed an escape route. Where could he -

His eyes fell to the curb next to his feet.

* * *

><p>Kate bolted from the helicopter the minute it landed, racing into the tunnel. "Ryan! Espo!"<p>

"In here!"

They came trotting towards her, expectant looks on her faces. Her heart sank. "Is he -"

Ryan's eyes went wide. "I thought -"

"You have _got_ to be shitting me right now!" Esposito looked like he was about ready to kick someone. "Where could he have gone?"

Sure enough, the police around them looked baffled; he was in the truck, but he hadn't come out of it. And now the truck was empty. He couldn't have left the tunnel without being seen.

Kate peered into the truck. No clues. He left nothing behind. "Damn it. _Damn_ it."

She hopped down, and her foot hit a metal grate. She looked down.

A storm drain.

She poked it experimentally with one foot, and it moved.

In a split second, Ryan and Esposito had the cover lifted, training their guns into the darkness. Nothing.

Kate took a breath, pulling out her flashlight, unbuckling her holster. She lowered herself carefully into the drain. "You guys are going to follow me, right? I'd hate to feel self-conscious."

"We got your six," Esposito assured her.

The storm drain was a shadowy, dank mess; she hit the floor with a hollow _thunk_, in what felt like a few inches of icy water. Ryan and Espo hit the floor a moment later, and she took point, walking them slowly through the tunnels, straining her ears, though the sound of rushing water drowned out most other noise.

The tunnel diverged, and after a moment's hesitation, she pointed them to the left, taking the right herself. She needed a partner, but since none of the CPD or sheriff's men had followed them, she was on her own for the moment. And no reports said Castle was armed.

She heard someone stumble in the culvert up ahead, and a muffled curse. Her pulse quickened. She had him.

The floor was slick, and with her gun and her flashlight both in her hands, Kate couldn't reach the wall for balance. The ground sloped unexpectedly and she stumbled, sprawling to the ground, her gun clattering away. She sputtered, blinking, wiping her wet hair away from her face, and fumbled for the weapon, until suddenly she heard a click.

Richard Castle was pointing her gun at her.

She froze, but he didn't fire. He was staring down at her, his eyes burning. She'd seen his face on plenty of glossy book jackets - she'd read his novels before the trial - but here, in the dim light of a freezing tunnel, he looked worlds different. Weary. Desperate.

But he didn't look angry.

And even with the echo of rushing water around them, she heard him clearly.

"I didn't kill my wife."

_Keep him talking._

She found her voice.

"So tell me a better story."

His eyes went wide with surprise.

She held her breath, waiting for the bang, the searing pain in her chest, but after a long, silent moment, Castle started to back away, giving her one last, haunted glance before he vanished around the corner.

Kate let out a shuddering sigh, blinking, brushing her hair back out of her eyes before she clambered to her feet, ripped open the velcro under her jacket, and grabbed her spare sidearm. She edged through the drain as quietly as possible, trying to ignore the sharp, aching cold, the air cutting right through her sodden clothing. Her whole body was shaking, bone-deep shivers that chattered her teeth.

The roar of rushing water getting louder, the sound more defined, less muffled. Footsteps sounded ahead. Just one pair.

Kate ducked around a corner to find herself staring at Richard Castle, who was there at the end of the drain, staring over the edge at the long, open drop into the dam, hundreds of feet of rushing water, straight down into the river.

"Castle!"

He whirled around to find her weapon trained on him. Her other gun was still in his hand, but at his side. She had him. "Drop the gun! Drop it!" He complied, his face stricken. It was the look of a man who'd just lost his last chance.

"Turn around. Slowly. Hands behind your head." He hesitated, and Kate took a step forward. "Castle! Now. Hands up. Kneel down."

He knelt slowly, hands behind his head, and Kate started to breathe again, reaching one hand for her handcuffs -

Before she could react, he lunged, throwing himself forward, over the edge and into the waterfall of the dam.

She gasped, clutching the edges of the storm drain, watching his body disappear in the long drop, the spray of rushing, roaring water.

"Beckett! Beckett!"

She turned back to find Kevin Ryan hurrying toward her, out of breath. Kate clenched her teeth, trying to stop them from chattering. "I almost had him."

"Where'd he go? Did he fall?"

She shook her head. "No. He jumped."

* * *

><p>Search-and-rescue, county water workers, and even the dogs - no one found a trace of Richard Castle.<p>

In her office in the U.S. Marshals building downtown, Kate sat back in her chair, scrubbing her face with one hand. "He's out there, you guys. I know it."

Esposito scowled. "Beckett, the guy did a Peter Pan off the dam. How high was that fall, five hundred feet? The guy's probably fish food."

"Then where's the fish who ate him?"

Esposito flopped into a chair across from her. "All right. So maybe you're right. Maybe he survived. But he's long gone now. If he's alive, he'd bolt."

Ryan nodded. "If I were him, I'd be on my way to Andorra. Skiing. Spas. Tapas. No extradition. All around a better choice."

She sat back in her chair. "He could have killed me."

"What?"

Kate shook her head. Her hands were still shaking. "I fell. I lost my gun. He picked it up before I could get my spare piece out. He was just standing there, pointing it at me. He could have shot me. He _should_ have; he could have gotten away. But he didn't."

"Why not?" Ryan asked.

Kate took a long breath, clenching her fists.

"I don't know."


	3. Chapter 3

When the planets aligned just right, federal warrants tended to come in much quicker than local ones, and as a result, Kate almost immediately got phone taps on Richard Castle's family, the staff at his publishing company, and his lawyer. And about two hours after the last tap was finalized, Ryan ducked his head into her office. "Beckett, we got a hit. He called his lawyer."

The conversation was a brief one.

_Richard, why did you run? Running only makes you look guilty._

_They can't really do anything worse to me than execution, Jim._

_Tell me where you are so I can come and get you, and you can turn yourself in._

_You know I can't do that._

_Richard, I can't harbor and aid a convicted felon. My advice as your legal counsel is to turn your damn self in. Where are you?_

_Milwaukee._

Kate thought through her contacts in Wisconsin. It made sense; as far as sneaking over borders went, Canada wouldn't be unfathomable. Easier than getting a plane ticket to South America or even Europe. And northern Wisconsin gave him options; he could even swerve east, slip through Sault Ste. Marie, or stow away on a freighter across Lake Superior.

She listened to the conversation one more time, shutting her eyes, focusing. "Tory, can you clear up the audio? It sounds like there's a loudspeaker in the background."

The sound tech nodded. "Sure. Give me a sec." She fiddled with dials and switches, clicked a few times, and pulled off her headphones. "All right. See if this helps."

The message started the same, but as the attorney started to say _I can't help you, Rick_, his voice went faint, leaving a blurry but discernable voice in the background. Tory frowned.

"I think if I…"

Her voice trailed off as she adjusted the controls again, finally nodding. "That should do it."

She pressed _play_ again and as the lawyer's voice faded, the background voice came through, loud and clear.

_This is a Brown Line train to Kimball_.

Kate stared at the machine. "Are you _kidding_ me?"

"Son of a bitch," Esposito murmured. "He's here."

Ryan threw down his pen. "The theater district? That's six blocks away."

Kate sent Esposito with a small crew to the payphone, but Castle was long gone by the time they got there. They found his fingerprints on the phone, but nothing useful. No information.

"Sorry, Beckett. No one remembers seeing him," Espo reported over the phone. "We'll keep checking, but I don't see this panning out. He could be anywhere by now."

She sighed, pressing her fingertips to her forehead. "Well, it was a long shot anyway. Thanks."

Kate set her phone down and swiveled her chair, staring out the window at the Chicago skyline. Chicago. Kimball.

_Why is he still here?_

And - the theater district?

She reached for one of the casefiles, flipping through papers until she found notes on his family. Scanning the page, she finally found what she was looking for - Martha Rodgers, his mother. An actress. A veteran performer who'd spent the past thirty-five years on various stages in Chicago. Castle must have grown up in and out of theaters. He'd know exactly how to disappear there. And if he could get into a theater, into a green room, he could alter his appearance.

Wonderful.

She had a vanishing fugitive, now with disguises at his disposal, and she still had no earthly idea why he was in Chicago.

* * *

><p>The police detectives who had arrested Rick Castle in the first place came to the Marshals' headquarters that afternoon, and as they sat down in her office, Kate briefly wondered if it were possible for two men to be more stereotypically Chicahgo duhtectives.<p>

But she kept that to herself.

"So why'd he kill her?"

The senior detective - Bob, she was pretty sure his name was - cleared his throat. "For the money."

Esposito leaned forward. "He was a best-selling author. He was already rich."

"She was more rich," Bob insisted placidly.

Esposito shot Kate a look. She cleared her throat. "So what else led you to believe he was the murderer?"

Bob sighed impatiently, shifting in his chair. "They'd been having marital problems. They were way, way on the rocks. She'd had more than one affair, and he'd found out about them."

"Also," his partner finally said, "his behavior started to look more and more suspicious. He'd gone out of his way to hide the problems with his wife; he didn't even tell us about them until we started to find out on our own. We know he has contacts in the criminal underworld. He's even got a criminal record."

"Aren't they all non-violent offenses, though?" Ryan asked innocently. "And - wait, it looks like he was cleared, every time. Even when he stole the police horse -"

"In addition," Bob continued without answering him, "we know - we couldn't prove it, and we never found it - the guy has hidden assets. He legally changed his name to Richard Edgar Castle when he was eighteen, and we're pretty sure he's used the name Richard Alexander Rodgers to hide money and open at least one account, separate from his wife."

Kate looked up from Richard Castle's initial statements. "It says here - Castle claimed he walked in on the murder. A dark-haired man, whom he did not recognize, killed his wife, struggled with him, and escaped?"

Bob nodded. "All he could tell us was 'dark hair, tall, strong.' Most generic statement possible."

"Did he sit with a sketch artist?"

"Like I said - completely generic. No help."

Ryan raised one hand. "What is this about a pen?"

The junior detective stared at Bob for a second, then seemed to remember. "Oh, right. Castle kept claiming there was some pen in his office, something the guy dropped in the struggle."

He folded his hands on his stomach again. Kate blinked.

"And?"

He shrugged. "And nothing. Pen had no prints on it but Castle's. It was his pen, in his office. Pretty flimsy claim."

"With no evidence on his side," Bob said, "no signs of forced entry, no motive but his, and his skin under the victim's fingernails, we naturally turned to him as primary suspect."

"I'm not trying to cast doubt," Kate explained, "but understand, we were surprised to see that the worst thing he ever got caught doing was -" she glanced back at the rap sheet "- stealing a police horse? While naked?"

"The guy plans murders for a living," Bob drawled. "He's had two dozen books to think about it. If anyone had a chance to practice and not get caught, it's this guy."

Kate nodded absently, flipping through more of her notes. "Thank you, gentlemen. If we run into more questions, we'll contact you again."

The junior detective, whose name Kate had completely lost, frowned, confused. "Aren't you going to alert the press?"

"No." She sat back in her chair. "We want him to relax. Think he's safe. Try and re-enter his life somehow."

The CPD had brought over a copy of the entire casefile on Meredith Harper-Castle's murder, and Kate and her team spent the afternoon sifting through it on their own, page by page. Lanie, the forensic specialist, frowned absently as she looked through the coroner's report. "Everything here looks completely in order, Kate. Cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head, matching the broken lamp found at the scene. No fluids, no foreign DNA, no fingerprints except Castle's. The investigators saw no signs of forced entry."

Kate scanned her own copy of the report. "The prosecutor said it was planned? Not a crime of passion?"

"The phone in the kitchen was off the hook," Lanie told her, pointing to the line in the report. "The victim's bloody fingerprints were found on the phone in the bedroom. She tried to call 911, but couldn't dial out. That didn't happen by accident."

Kate bit her lip. "I feel like we're missing something."

"I don't get it," Ryan sighed. "He goes to all this trouble, he knows all of Cook County is looking for him - why _isn't_ he in Milwaukee? What's here?"

Kate shrugged, closing the folder she'd been reading and pinching the bridge of her nose. "I don't know, guys. I think we need to talk to his family."

* * *

><p>Alexis Castle almost shut the door in Beckett's face when she saw the silver badge.<p>

Her grandmother, who had taken the girl in when her father was arrested, sailed over to let them in. "I know you have to ask us, Miss Beckett, but so you know, my son is innocent. I don't care what the jury said. He did _not_ kill Meredith."

"Ma'am, I'm just trying to find your son."

"So you can hand him over to be executed," Martha pointed out sharply. "You'll forgive me if I don't muster up any enthusiasm."

"Has he contacted you?"

Martha shook her head. "No."

Kate paused. "Would you tell me if he had?"

Martha let out a mirthless chuckle. "Honestly? No. I wouldn't. But it's a moot point. I really haven't heard from him, and I don't expect to."

"Why's that?"

Martha fixed her with a level gaze, the kind that briefly made Kate forget who was in charge.

"My son knows exactly how investigations run. He's done ridealongs with the Chicago police. He knows you'll come to question us. And he knows he's safer so long as we don't know where he is."

"Sounds like a smart man."

Martha smiled archly.

"Deputy Beckett, you have no idea."

* * *

><p>Martha couldn't - or wouldn't - shine any light on whether or not Castle had any money or papers stashed anywhere. Kate eyed the woman, who was one of Chicago's finest actresses, and decided it wasn't worth needling her further.<p>

Castle's daughter refused to leave her room when asked, though at least she didn't throw anything when Kate opened the door and poked her head inside.

"I need to ask you a few questions, Miss Castle."

The girl glared at her, jaw tight, but didn't say anything.

"Have you heard from your father?"

"No."

"Do you know why he's still in Chicago?"

That seemed to catch the girl by surprise - her eyes widened before she caught herself, and her face settled back into the stony mask. "No."

Kate thought for a moment. Alexis was cross-legged on her bed, very pointedly looking away from her. She wasn't getting anywhere with this girl.

"Alexis, I'm not your enemy." That got no reaction. Kate swallowed. "I know what it's like to lose someone, you know. I was about your age when my mother died. She was murdered."

"Did they strap your dad to a gurney and kill him, too?"

Kate blinked. "That's - not -"

"Get out." Alexis fixed Kate with a glare of pure ice, a vicious, consuming hatred that didn't belong in those big blue eyes, so much like her father's. "Just get out."

After a long moment, Kate tucked her hands into her pockets. She pulled out her card, setting it quietly on the girl's desk, and left, shutting the door behind her.

* * *

><p>Castle slipped out the side door of the Chicago Theater, tugging at the grey pants, zipping up the black sweatshirt. He'd looked for the most neutral colors he could find.<p>

He still had a slight sense of guilt over stealing some poor actor's clothing and makeup right out of the green room, but in the grand scheme of things, maybe it was okay, just this one time.

Besides: when this was all over, he could repay everything back. With interest.

Sneaking into the theater wasn't too difficult - he'd practically grown up there, and knew every door and passageway in the entire complex - but it was dangerous. The stage manager was an old friend of his mother's.

But he was outside now, one more faceless man in the crowds of Chicago, with newly salt-and-pepper hair and the shadow of greying stubble painted across his chin, thanks to years watching his mother and her co-stars doing stage makeup. He'd checked the mirror, and sure enough, ten minutes of makeup had turned him fifteen years older. A pair of fake glasses were perched on his nose, extra stage makeup and a second shirt tucked in the duffel bag he'd found, and he even had two fairly realistic-looking wigs, one black and one reddish-brown.

He really was invisible now.


	4. Chapter 4

Gina Griffin walked out of her tennis club, tipped her valet, climbed into her Mercedes, and drove off towards her townhouse.

At a particularly long red light, she was just reaching for the rear-view mirror when there was a knock at her passenger's side window. Gina flinched, ready to hit the accelerator, but looked up to find -

"Oh, my God, Richard?"

Rick leaned in, smiling wryly. "Hi, Gina."

"I can't believe this - are you okay? Can I help you somehow?"

"I need money. Just - whatever you've got."

"Sure, sure." She fumbled through her purse, shoving a handful of bills at him. "Do you need a place to stay? What can I do?"

"No, this is fine. Besides, the cops are going to get to you. If they haven't already, it's just a matter of time."

"Richard -"

He straightened, looking around. "I have to go."

"But -"

"I'll call you, okay?"

He walked away without a backward glance, leaving Gina staring, open-mouthed.

* * *

><p>He found a room for rent in a building that mainly housed illegal immigrants from Eastern Europe - cheap, sparse, and no questions asked. When he told the landlady he wouldn't get paid till the end of next week, she grudgingly agreed to let him rent it anyway, and Rick was deeply thankful for the fact that he was a people person.<p>

He settled back on the thin old mattress, staring up at the water-stained ceiling, and let out a deep breath. It felt like the first time he'd stopped moving, stopped running, in days. His body ached. His bones were tired.

He drifted into a deep sleep, and woke up around noon, groggy and shaky and focused.

No time to rest.

He thought, briefly, about finding Alexis, and his heart ached at the thought, but he knew she was being watched. The police would have gone straight to her. That was nothing but a trap. As much as he loved his daughter, and every fiber of him wanted to see her and hug her tight and promise her he could find a way to fix this, he had to stay away from her.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to relax.

The only way he could get his life back was to find out what actually happened.

His memories of the night Meredith was murdered were hazy. Alexis was out with friends that weekend. He'd come home from a business dinner to find candles lit, rose petals in a trail towards the bedroom, her black silk negligee draped over his desk.

He'd opened the bedroom door and found his nightmare, a tall, hulking man crouched over Meredith's bloody body.

He'd run forward, but the man had height and weight on his side, and gave him a shove that sent him flying into the wall, cracking his head, and Rick had watched, dazed, as the man escaped.

He hadn't recognized him, had never seen him, didn't know if Meredith knew him. Just like that, in a moment, everything was over.

Rick blinked back tears, his throat tight.

* * *

><p>"Miss Griffin? I'm Kate Beckett, Deputy U.S. Marshal. Thank you for seeing us."<p>

"Please, call me Gina."

Richard Castle's editor was an elegant woman - tall, blonde, polished, and perfectly put-together. She waved Kate, Ryan and Esposito towards chairs with a perfectly-manicured hand. "How can I help you?"

"Have you had contact with Richard Castle recently?"

Gina eyed them for a long moment before shrugging.

"All right. I saw Richard this morning."

Ryan sputtered, hand frozen above his notebook, and exchanged incredulous looks with Esposito. Kate couldn't help but let out a short laugh. "You did? Where was this?"

"He stopped me near my gym this morning."

Esposito piped up. "Did he ask you for anything?"

Gina shrugged, picking at her nails, her expression almost bored even as she talked about the convicted murderer she'd chatted with today. "I offered to help him. All he asked for was money. So I gave him some."

"How much?" Espo asked.

"Just - not much, whatever I had on me."

Kate stared at this calm, controlled woman, who seemed remarkably dispassionate about everything that had happened. She couldn't get a read on Gina Griffin. Couldn't figure it out. "Why do you think he's in Chicago?"

"He didn't tell me that."

"That's not what I asked." Interesting. "I'm sure he knew we'd talk to you. What I'm asking is what _you_ think."

Gina fixed Kate with a level gaze, cool and entirely self-possessed.

"I don't know."

"It must be important to him, given that he's willing to stay in a city crawling with law enforcement, all looking for him."

"Yes, I think you're right."

Kate glanced over at Espo and Ryan, whose faces confirmed what she was thinking - dead end. Even if Gina knew something, she wasn't talking.

Maybe backing up the story would help.

"Before the murder, did you notice any unusual habits? Any erratic behavior?"

"As I told the Chicago police when this all began, I didn't see anything strange," Gina enunciated clearly, as if to a particularly slow child. "His last book had gotten low sales figures. By the time his wife was killed, he hadn't turned in a manuscript in months. I was supposed to meet with him, push him back into writing. He was no good to us if he wasn't working."

Kate thought for a long moment. "Do you think he's guilty?"

"No."

"Do you know who is?"

"If I did, I'd have informed the police a long time ago."

Kate wanted to say a few choice things to this self-important woman, but decided not to do anything that would get her fired. "Miss Griffin, if you hear from him again, please let us know."

From the catlike smile on the blonde woman's face, Kate knew it was useless. "I take my civic duty very seriously."

They left her office in silence, waiting until the elevator doors shut before Esposito grumbled, "Was it just me, or is she kind of a bitch?"

"I think I have frostbite," Ryan muttered.

"She's not going to tell us anything," Kate sighed. "Let's get a warrant for her email, phone records, anything. It's a long shot, but you never know."

Ryan pulled out his phone, but paused. "What if Castle sent her a carrier pigeon?"

"Go buy a net."

* * *

><p>The only thing Castle remembered about Meredith's murderer - the only thing that could lead to his identity, anyway - was the pen he'd dropped in the struggle.<p>

He remembered the logo. It wasn't a pen he recognized. And it was no cheap, flimsy plastic thing; he remembered the clunk of it hitting the ground. It was a beautiful fountain pen, not unlike several he had, but he knew it wasn't his. It looked like - a business logo, maybe?

Not that the police had listened. They'd already decided he was guilty. And then they'd stopped looking.

Rick sighed, swinging his legs over the side of his spartan little bed, listening to the floor creak under his feet.

_That rubber tree plant's not going to move itself, Rick._

Long shots might be all he had right now. And he could only think of one person in the world who might be willing, and able, to help.


	5. Chapter 5

Kate paged through Castle's volumes of notes. For all the drama and gossip surrounding his personal life, he'd spent his professional life diligently planning his work. He had pages full of plot summaries, character sketches, outlines and story maps. His notes to himself read like a voice; they were speechlike, almost a conversation with himself.

She kept seeing him in her mind's eye, his face taut, eyes blazing, hand shaking, holding her gun as he stood there and didn't kill her.

_I didn't kill my wife_.

One notebook in particular caught her eye. It was a research notebook. He'd taken over a hundred pages of notes on true crime stories, 1930's detectives, famous crimes, unsolved crimes, and some of the Chicago mob wars.

The prosecutor had used this notebook as evidence, showing intent and planning, but Kate frowned, reading more carefully. The notes jotted here weren't focused on method so much as they were focused on story. He was interested in the tales of these crimes, noting key players, making observations to himself on locations, possible motives, and even speculating who was really behind the unsolved cases.

"What have you got there, Beckett?"

She glanced up, startled; she hadn't even heard Ryan walk into her office. "Castle's notebooks. This one has tons of research, notes, casefiles. He even tried his hand at solving some open cases."

"Huh." Ryan peered over her shoulder. "So he's a crime junkie?"

"I guess so." She set the notebook down. "With that amount of detail, I'll bet he spent a decent amount of time at the library, looking that stuff up."

"You want to see if anyone there knows where he is?"

She half-smiled at him. "Might as well try."

"I'll see if Esposito's free. We'll make it a family adventure."

* * *

><p>The Chicago Public Library was one of Rick's favorite places in the whole world.<p>

Safely clad in his new fake glasses, slight age lines and touches of grey in his hair, he walked in and took a deep breath, drawing in the familiar, gentle smell of old books, polished wood, the hum of quiet conversation.

He took the elevator to the sixth floor, heading for the sign reading _Microfilm Archives_, and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the woman behind the desk - a white-haired woman in a tidy flowered blouse and skirt, engrossed in a book.

"Excuse me?"

She glanced up, smiling. "Can I help you?"

"Vera." He grinned. "Don't tell me I'm _that_ good at stage makeup."

Vera stared at him for a long moment, and he could see the second she recognized him. Her whole face lit up.

"Oh, dear God, _Richard_ -"

She engulfed him in a warm, tight hug, pulling him into her smaller frame with fierce hands. Rick felt his throat getting tight. "Hi, Vera."

"I can't believe this," she murmured, pulling back to look at him carefully. "What happened to you?"

"Like I said. Makeup." He grinned. "Had to look less handsome somehow."

"Not easy for you."

"Vera, as much as I wish I could just chat, I need your help."

She nodded. "Anything."

"I'm looking for someone."

* * *

><p>Kate and her fellow deputies found themselves stopped by a particularly fierce-looking volunteer. "Can I help you?" the young man murmured.<p>

"Yes -" she glanced at his nametag - "Mr. Decker. We -"

"Could I ask you to please speak more quietly?"

Kate stared at the earnest young man. _Oh. He's serious_.

"Right." She held up her badge. "U.S. Marshals Office. I need to speak with your director."

Mr. Decker blinked at the badge like he'd never seen a five-pointed star.

"Um. Okay."

* * *

><p>"So - what did the logo look like?"<p>

Rick shut his eyes, blocking out everything else, remembering the pen he'd picked up while he waited for the police to arrive.

"It was - here."

He started sketching on the back of a spare sheet of paper. "Like that. This part was blue, and this was red." He sighed. "That's all I remember."

Vera blinked, picking up the paper, scanning it carefully. "Hmm."

"What?"

"Does this look familiar?"

She dug through the pencil cup on her desk, pulling one out. "Was it like this?"

Rick took the pen, his stomach turning.

"Yeah. That's the logo. That's it, exactly. But - it was a different pen." He turned over the plastic ball-point pen in his hand. "It was heavier. A fountain pen."

"Well, this is from a campaign trail," Vera mused. "A nicer pen, maybe one given to a donor? Sounds like you're looking for a wealthy patron." She paused. "Maybe - was it one of Meredith's - male friends?"

Rick let out a mirthless chuckle. "You'd have to be more specific, Vera."

She patted his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. And you're not wrong."

She put the pen back. "Well, it's not a sure thing, but do you want to check newspaper photos? If you're looking for a donor, maybe he got photographed at a fundraiser, or a rally."

Rick nodded. "Good idea."

Vera took him back to the microfilm machine, sorting through newspaper records and pulling out the ones that might help. "I'm always happy to help you research, but I much prefer when it's for a book."

"So do I." Rick took the reels she handed him. "Have you - have you talked to Alexis?"

"Not terribly recently, but she stops by when she's in the library." Vera smiled at him softly. "She misses you. Joe and I miss you, too."

She settled him at the microfilm machine. "Call me if you need any more help."

Castle kissed her wrinkled cheek. "You're an angel. You know, you _are_ aiding and abetting a fugitive. You could be in real trouble for this."

She pinched his cheek. "You wrote a novel about my life, kiddo. I can handle myself in rough times."

"You know," he told her, "to date, _Blue Butterfly_ is still my best-selling book."

* * *

><p>The library manager welcomed them into his office. "I'm sorry about Brad. He takes - well, everything - a little too seriously."<p>

"Thank you, Mr. -" Kate paused.

"Montgomery. Roy Montgomery." He shook her hand.

"Mr. Montgomery, I'm Deputy Kate Beckett; this is Kevin Ryan and Javier Esposito. We're looking for a fugitive."

"Richard Castle?"

"How do you know?"

Montgomery shrugged. "I can't think of any other reason you'd be at the library. Rick Castle did a lot of work here on his books."

"You know him well?"

"Not well, but I do know him. He's been coming here all his life."

"We'd like to look at his library records, if that's all right."

Montgomery nodded. "Of course. Let me pull them up for you."

* * *

><p>Rick rubbed his eyes, peering through the lens at what must have been his thousandth issue of the newspaper.<p>

Vera leaned over his shoulder. "Any luck?"

"Nothing yet."

"Well, keep at it."

He didn't even know how many more newspaper articles he looked through before he clicked to one more and froze.

"Vera."

She bustled back in from her desk. "What is it, sweetie?"

"Vera." He swallowed hard. "It's him."

She paused, her eyes going wide. "Are you - are you sure?"

"I saw his face, Vera." Rick moved, letting her take a look through the lens. "It's him."

* * *

><p>Check-out records in hand, the three deputies headed for the elevator.<p>

"You think this is going to help?" Espo asked.

Kate shrugged. "Can't hurt." She stabbed the elevator button. "Jeez, how slow is this thing?"

Ryan flipped through the records. "No recent activity. Not surprising, I guess. But come on, he wouldn't come back here. The library? What's he going to do here, hide in the middle of the encyclopedia? That's just wonky."

Esposito just rolled his eyes. Kate frowned. "Wonky?"

"Yeah." Ryan grinned.

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know." Ryan shrugged. "It's just wonky."

Kate pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ryan, stop using words that don't have any meaning. This is taking too long. I'm taking the stairs."

She stalked off to the stairwell, leaving Ryan and Esposito in front of the elevator doors.

Ryan huffed. "At least I didn't say 'boyo.'"

* * *

><p>"You take care of yourself, Richard." Vera hugged him tight. "And if you need anything - <em>anything<em> - you come to us. Joe and I can help."

Rick smiled, tucking photocopies of the article into his pocket. "I want to keep you out of trouble, Vera."

She fixed him with a stern look. "Rick. Joe and I stole a diamond necklace from a gangster. We may not be young, but we don't scare easily."

"You take care," he told her. "When this is all over, I'm having you and Joe to the loft for dinner again."

She nodded, her eyes twinkling. "I'll hold you to that."

He took a deep breath, put his fake glasses back on, and headed for the stairs.

* * *

><p>The stairs gave her a chance to think.<p>

Chasing fugitives was one thing. She could catch a killer. She knew how to find out what they wanted, and use that to follow them. But this? This was hard to pin down. She didn't understand Richard Castle.

Kate paused, glancing back down the stairwell at the man a floor away. A tall man, broad-shouldered, with thick, greying brown hair, and she thought she saw the edge of glasses.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

She clenched the railing.

"Rick?"

He looked up, completely involuntarily, and she stared Richard Castle in the eye.


	6. Chapter 6

Rick bolted down the stairs, heart in his throat. He could hear Beckett's footsteps clattering behind him. It sounded like she was wearing heels, and even as he took the stairs three at a time, he couldn't help but wonder why on earth a woman that tall needed to wear heels to a job this intense.

He heard her call _Stop!_ but he ignored it, his pulse pounding in his ears. Her rapid footsteps were getting closer. She was catching up. He -

He heard a cry, and looked back up to see her falling down the stairs, her body hitting the landing with a thud.

She was only halfway up a flight, and he almost stopped to see if she was okay, but then he remembered he needed to get away from her.

"Castle -"

He kept running.

He heard her start again, and he held his breath. He was almost to the main floor.

Castle was about to stay on the stairs, run into the basement wing, and either sprint for the emergency exit or hide in among the crowded, overstocked shelves, but he caught a glimpse of what looked like a kindergarten class, walking together towards the front doors, hand-in-hand.

Ignoring the grumpy volunteer asking him to _kindly_ stop running, Rick bolted towards the class, slowing to a walk as he got close to them. The last one, a little boy with sandy blonde hair, looked up at him curiously, seemed to decide he was harmless, and looked back at his teacher.

A glance back confirmed what he'd hoped - Beckett was watching him, gun in her hand, but he was surrounded by innocent children; she wasn't going to point the weapon anywhere near him. Her eyes met his. She started running.

He hit the door, sprinted across the street, and was around the corner and out of sight before Beckett's voice, crying _Stop! Castle, stop!_ rang out across the plaza.

* * *

><p>Kate raced through the doors, stumbling on the bruised knee that was burning now, down the front steps, panting as she scanned the crowd. Nothing. No Castle. He was gone.<p>

"_Damn_ it!"

She heard Ryan and Esposito calling for her. "Yo, Beckett! What's going on?"

She sighed, running her hands through her hair, so frustrated she wanted to kick something. "He got away." Kate gritted her teeth. "I almost had him."

Esposito trotted down the block, looking through the crowd, but came back shrugging. "Nothing. Long gone."

Ryan looked back and forth between them.

"So what the hell was he doing here?"

* * *

><p>Rick's pulse was still pounding against his ribcage by the time he got back to his tiny little flat. He splashed some water on his face, leaning on the sink, before sinking onto the thin mattress.<p>

Too close. Way, way too close.

He couldn't help but wonder about this woman chasing him. He knew the branches of law enforcement; he'd recognized the star-shaped badge of a U.S. Marshal. Beckett didn't fit - she was too young, too gorgeous to be what she was.

And he didn't understand. She was chasing him, but the look in her eyes, the hesitation before she'd followed him down the stairs - did she really want to catch him?

_Who are you, Deputy Beckett?_

She seemed like a riddle. He liked riddles.

But for now, he already had one to solve.

* * *

><p>Rick had mastered the art of convincing prank calls as a child, and thanks to a very gullible directory clerk, had the address he wanted in minutes.<p>

Joshua Davidson lived in the Pullman neighborhood, in an apartment in one of the old rowhouses. It wasn't even difficult to get inside; Rick grabbed a dirty rag from the nearest dumpster, wrapped it around his fist, and broke the basement window, crawling through and up into the first-floor apartment. He couldn't help but think that should have been more of a challenge.

_Okay. Clues_.

He started opening desk drawers.

* * *

><p>Kate's desk phone rang as she adjusted the icepack on her knee. "Beckett."<p>

"Beckett, it's Karpowski. We have a guy on the line, claiming he's Richard Castle."

"Another one?" That made thirteen. Great.

"Sorry."

She sighed, exchanging glances with Ryan and Esposito. _Another Castle_, she mouthed. "Put him through."

There was a click, and she heard the change in ambient noise. "This is Beckett."

"Do you remember what I said to you in the tunnel?"

She froze.

Ryan and Esposito immediately noticed the change in her posture, the sharp intake of breath; Ryan scribbled _really him?_ on his notepad. Kate nodded, swallowing hard. He dashed out to grab Tory as she turned her attention back to the man on the phone.

"It was noisy, dark. I think - you said something like, um -" she took a breath. "You didn't kill your wife."

"And do you remember what you told me?"

Kate dug her fingernails into her armrest. "I remember you were pointing my gun at me."

"You said, '_Tell me a better story_.'"

His voice was different than she remembered. It was calm now. Deliberate. Low and melodious. For a man living a constant game of cat and mouse, he sounded far more collected than he had any right to be.

"Yeah, I did."

"Did you mean it?"

She shut her eyes, breathing through her nose, her heartbeat flickering, rapid and hectic.

"Do you have a better story to tell me?"

"Almost."

"Castle. Rick. Look. I'm not trying to solve a puzzle, here."

"Well, I _am_ trying to solve a puzzle. And I just found a big piece."

"Castle. Castle -"

There was a loud click, and Kate steeled herself, but - no dial tone.

He didn't hang up.

She looked up at Esposito, who was still sitting across from her desk. "He left it off the hook. He didn't hang up."

Her cell phone rang. "Beckett, it's Ryan. Tory says it's south side. Pullman. I'm getting the address now."

* * *

><p>Kate Beckett sat at Joshua Davidson's desk, right where Richard Castle had sat not an hour earlier, and took a deep breath, scanning the surroundings. The forensics unit said his fingerprints were focused here. He'd broken in through the basement, come up here, and spent at least fifteen minutes at this desk.<p>

_What were you looking for, Castle?_

She heard heavy footsteps in the hall, and a taut, annoyed man's voice. "What is this, a trenchcoat convention? Come on, what the hell's going on here?"

She glanced up, taking him in coolly. Joshua Davidson was tall, solidly built, handsome in an aggressive way. Clean-cut dark hair, unsurprising; records showed he was a former police officer.

"You had a break-in, Mr. Davidson."

He stared down at her, chewing on what she was sure was a polite comment.

"I sure as hell hope you're a cop."

She shook her head. "Kate Beckett, U.S. Marshals Office. Mr. Davidson, this morning a fugitive named Richard Castle broke into your apartment."

"Who?"

Esposito handed him Castle's mugshot.

"Oh, yeah. That author, the guy who killed his wife." He handed the photo back. "Why was he here?"

"We were hoping you could tell us."

Davidson shrugged. "I never met the guy. I don't even think I've read any of his books."

'Did you know his wife?"

"No."

"What line of work are you in, Mr. Davidson?" Her lips quirked. "Cardiac surgeon, perhaps?"

He didn't look amused. "Security."

"Who do you work for?"

"After I left the CPD, I joined a private security firm. I handle security for a political campaign now."

'Which one?"

Davidson paused, and Kate noticed the faintest flicker of hesitation on his face.

"Senator William Bracken."


	7. Chapter 7

On the way out of Davidson's apartment, Esposito paused outside the car. "That guy's dirty. I don't know how. But I can feel it."

Kate mulled it over. "I don't know. I mean, I don't love him. But I don't know what we're missing here."

"You want a detail on this guy?"

"Yeah. Tell them to hang back, though. If he's a former cop, he'll know he's being tailed."

* * *

><p>Kate was starting to strongly dislike the severe modern aesthetics of Black Pawn's corporate headquarters. The furniture, even the art, was too angular, everything in muted shades of grey. It was too self-conscious.<p>

_I get it. You're modish. _

The receptionist was already appropriately afraid of Kate and her deputies, so they sailed past the front desk and into the second office on the right, finding Gina just hanging up the phone. She didn't look thrilled to see them.

"Miss Griffin, we have just a few more questions."

Gina bared her teeth in what looked more like a grimace than a smile. "I'm _so_ very happy to help."

"I'm sure you are." Kate held up a copy of a photo from Davidson's apartment; Castle's fingerprints had been found all over this one. "Do you recognize the men in this photograph?"

"Well, the one on the left is Illinois' senior senator."

"You know him?"

Gina raised an eyebrow. "I vote."

"And the man on the right?"

She shook her head. "I don't know him."

"Are you sure?" Esposito pressed.

The woman sighed. "I have never seen that man before, in the whole course of my life." She looked back at Kate. "Is there anything else?"

"That's all. Thank you."

"Wonderful." Gina waved to the entrance. "You remember the door?"

This time, Esposito didn't wait for the elevator to voice his opinion.

"I don't like her."

* * *

><p>After the charming hospitality of Gina Griffin, Esposito headed straight to the CPD precinct to confer with the detectives; Kate and Ryan stopped to grab coffee a block away from the Marshals' building.<p>

Kate took the coffee and her change, thanking the vendor. "So - just go with me here. I want to posit a scenario."

Ryan nodded. "Of course."

"Let's say, just for the sake of argument, Richard Castle didn't kill his wife."

Ryan's eyes widened, but he took it in stride. "Okay. So he's innocent. But he's convicted."

"He's on death row," Kate pointed out, "so he has absolutely no incentive to turn himself in. None. There's only one thing that can possibly get him his life back -"

"- catching the real killer," Ryan finished for her. "That would explain why he's still in Chicago."

Kate hummed, wrapping her chilly hands around the warm coffee cup. "And why he didn't kill me. A guilty man would have shot me, stolen money and hopped a bus somewhere."

They walked in silence for a few moments, before Ryan finally spoke up again.

"It fits the evidence. It explains his behavior."

She nodded.

"He's not just hiding. He's _investigating_. That notebook of his, full of theories and casefiles? That's what he's doing here. And the phone call. He's trying to show us what he's looking for."

They got back to the building and Ryan held the door for her, following her into the elevator.

"Beckett - this guy. Castle. He's getting to you."

She bit her lip.

"That's how we catch them. We figure out what they want."

"So what are you going to do next?"

The elevator doors closed behind them, and Kate slowly pressed the button for their floor.

"Research."

* * *

><p>Karpowski poked her head into Kate's office an hour later. "Hey, Beckett? Got a visitor."<p>

Kate stood, crossing in front of her desk. "Martha. Thank you so much for coming."

Castle's mother set down the box she was carrying, shaking Beckett's hand politely and taking the chair Kate offered. "I have to admit, part of me is still suspicious."

"No need, Ms. Rodgers." Kate shut the door, offering them complete privacy. "You told me your son was innocent."

"He is."

Kate bit her lip. "If I accept that, if I assume he's innocent, then what do you think he would do?"

"He'd find Meredith's killer."

_It looks like that's exactly what he's doing_.

"What can you tell me about Rick and Meredith? I was told their marriage was - troubled."

Martha sighed. "_That's_ an understatement. She got pregnant, he married her because they were young and figured it would work. It didn't. Richard loved her, and I think she cared about him, but she'd had affairs. The only reason Richard kept hanging on, desperate to make it work, was for Alexis. He wanted her to have a family."

Kate nodded. "I understand."

"It may not have been the - the happiest of marriages," Martha conceded, "but make no mistake, my son was determined to do what was best for his daughter."

Kate nodded.

Martha smoothed her dress over her legs. "If you don't mind my asking, Deputy -"

"Please, call me Kate."

"Deputy Kate." Her voice was perfectly even. "Alexis said you mentioned something - about your own family -"

"My mother." Her chest got tight, the breath seizing up, because memories of her mother floated up without warning, perfect, delicate crystals that took the breath out of her lungs. "She was murdered, when I was nineteen." Kate swallowed hard. "The case was never solved."

"I'm sorry."

After a long moment, Kate took a breath, trying to put herself back into her role. Investigator. Right. "Ms. Rodgers, I mentioned over the phone -"

"I brought what I have," Martha told her. "Some notes he had at the time - the police didn't find anything material to the case, so they gave these back. I don't know if they'll help, but you're welcome to look through them."

Kate pulled out a sheaf of papers. "Is this - a manuscript? I wasn't aware he was writing anything at the time."

"Oh, yes, my dear." Martha opened to the title page. "His protegé - a very, very talented young writer named Alex Conrad - died in an accident a few months before Meredith was killed. He'd given Richard his notes and excerpts, and Richard was ghostwriting the book, in his memory."

Kate set the papers back in the box. She had some reading to do.

"Thank you for this, Martha."

Ms. Rodgers nodded, drawing herself up to her full height, and Kate saw the actress, the queen of Chicago's stage, here in the mundane reality of the office.

"My son is a good man, Kate Beckett. And I want him to come home."

* * *

><p>"Beckett."<p>

Kate looked up, startled, and shut the manuscript she'd been reading. "What?"

Ryan peered over the papers. "Whatcha reading?"

"Castle's most recent work." She set it down. "This book - he wrote it based on Alex Conrad's notes. Martha Rodgers brought it by, with some other things."

Esposito looked it over. "Wait - when was he writing this? When his wife was murdered?"

"That's what she said."

Espo tapped it with one finger. "That's not what Gina Griffin said. Remember? Said Castle hadn't written anything in months."

"So what's it about?" Ryan asked.

"I'm only a chapter in," Kate said, "but so far it's about a book editor." She leaned back in her chair, biting one thumbnail. "So Alex Conrad was writing this when he died. And then _Castle_ was writing it when suddenly, surprise surprise, his wife ends up murdered."

Ryan's eyebrows went up. "That's a bit of a coincidence."

Kate picked up the book again. "You guys, it might be nothing, but let's look into Conrad's death. I know it was classified accidental, but - just see what you can find."


	8. Chapter 8

Lanie walked into the bullpen and tossed the autopsy file on Esposito's desk.

"He might have been murdered."

Espo looked up, startled. "Hi to you, too."

"Hi. Alex Conrad? That hit-and-run?" She shook her head. "Nothing concrete, but I'd say there's a strong chance someone ran him down on purpose."

Ryan rolled his chair over to join them. "You said murder?"

She nodded. "No skid marks at the scene. Witnesses said Conrad was safely away from the street, and the car came up after him. Autopsy report was - well, gruesome. That car was after him. I'd say there's about a seventy percent chance that was a murder."

"Guys! Guys."

Kate Beckett hurried in, manuscript in hand. "I just finished this."

Ryan sat up in his chair. "And?"

She handed him the manuscript. "It's the story of the CEO of a publishing company. She starts having an affair with the governor, _then_ starts embezzling money from the company to fund his campaign."

"Whoa. Whoa." Esposito grabbed the book. "You think -"

* * *

><p>In the tech room, Tory looked up from her computer screen. "Hey, you guys. What can I do for you?"<p>

Kate pulled up a chair beside Tory. "Can you pull up Gina Griffin's email records?"

Tory nodded, typing swiftly. "What are you looking for?"

"Communication between her and Alex Conrad."

Tory hummed, clicking and typing, biting her cheek as she cut through whatever firewall Black Pawn thought they had. "What was the name? Conrad?" She waited for the search engine to pull up her results. "Here's the last one. A week before his death, he emailed her saying he had a draft done. Right here -" Tory pointed - "_I'll have a hard copy on your desk by close of business tomorrow._"

Kate looked back at Ryan and Esposito. "So we know she saw his draft of the book."

Ryan nodded. "And then - Castle's version?"

"Right. Tory, can you check and see if Castle gave her a copy of the book? - it was based on Conrad's copy."

After another search, Tory nodded. "Here. Nine days before Meredith Castle's murder, he sent her a full spec sheet, including an outline, character drafts, and full plot summary."

"Gina saw this book. A book telling the story of an editor who slept with a senator, stole money, and split it between herself and his campaign. And then one week later, Alex Conrad is dead."

"Tory, is there a reason she didn't delete those emails?"

Tory just grinned. "Oh, she did. She tried to. But she's not an IT person. She didn't know how to scrub them from Black Pawn's server."

* * *

><p>Outside the tech room, Kate stopped in the middle of the hallway. Espo almost bumped into her. Ryan did bump into her. "Whoa. Sorry."<p>

"So Conrad dies for writing a book in which even _I _recognize Gina Griffin as the character who's having an affair with a politician. And now Castle breaks into the home of the security chief of Senator William Bracken, who's up for re-election?"

Ran's eyes went wide.

"Wait. You don't actually think - is Gina Griffin actually, really having an affair with Senator Bracken?"

Kate pointed out her door. "Get her in here, _now_."

"On it."

Esposito ran out and started barking for backup, while Kate turned to Ryan. "If she's having an affair with him, wouldn't his personal bodyguard know about it?"

"Only one way to find out." Ryan reached for the phone, calling up the patrol car back in the Pullman neighborhood. "Hey, guys, we need you to bring in Davidson for questioning."

"On it," the cop replied.

Ryan pulled out his notes. "You think Castle has this figured out?"

She shook her head. "I have no idea. But my guess is, he would recognize Davidson's face. And we know he saw the picture of Davidson and Bracken."

"Huh." Ryan flipped through his notebook. "We're going to have to talk to Senator Bracken, aren't we?"

Kate grabbed her jacket and headed briskly for the elevator, wrestling with a finicky sleeve.

"Beckett! Beckett!"

Ryan came running across the floor, phone still in hand.

"Patrol cops just called. Davidson's gone. He's not in the apartment. They didn't see him leave."

* * *

><p>He'd honestly thought his disguise skills were pretty good, but if the deputy recognized him even through grey hair and glasses, then Rick had more work to do.<p>

With a heavier coating of facial hair and more layers of clothing to bulk up his silhouette, Castle stopped at a payphone, bracing himself against the cold, blustery March air. It was colder today, a hint of snow in the air.

It was a risk, but after a moment's hesitation, he put in a quarter and dialed.

"Hello?"

He had to fight back the sudden tightness in his throat.

"Hello, Mother."

"Richard! Oh, my God, darling -"

"It's so good to hear your voice."

"Richard, where are you?"

"I don't have a lot of time. I'm sure your phone is being tapped. I just - I wanted to tell you I'm okay."

"Richard, there's a woman looking for you. A marshal."

"Beckett, right? Tall, gorgeous? Well dressed?"

His mother chuckled dryly. "That's her. She called me, Richard. I spoke to her. And I think she's starting to believe you're innocent."

His heart sped up in his chest.

_I didn't kill my wife._

_So tell me a better story._

"Are you sure?"

"She asked me for your notebooks. I gave her what I had, even that Conrad novel you wrote. Although she seemed surprised - said something about she had thought you weren't writing when Meredith was killed?"

He blinked. "Wait. Who told her I wasn't working on anything then? I spent months on that book."

"I guess I'm not sure, dear. I know they spoke to Gina. But I didn't really ask."

Rick stared blankly at the keypad, his mind whirling.

_Gina already had that draft._

"Richard? Are you still there?"

"I'm here." He took a long breath. "I have to go."

"Please, Richard - where are you? What's going on?"

"You know I can't tell you anything, Mother." He glanced up, watching pedestrians walk past, unseeing. "Just - tell Alexis I love her. I miss you both."

"Richard -"

"I'm going to figure it out, Mother." He took a deep breath. "I'm going to end this. And then I'm going to come home."

He hung up before she could respond.


	9. Chapter 9

As Beckett drove, Ryan called Tory, putting his phone on speaker. "Tory, hey. Beckett and I are headed to Davidson's place. What have you got?"

"Just over an hour ago, Joshua Davidson made a phone call to - wait a second." They heard typing. "Oh, so they think they're clever. Hmm. But if I just...okay. Got it. The call went out to a cell phone registered to - _oh_. Registered to Gina Griffin."

"Huh." Ryan shot Kate a look. "Remember how she claimed she didn't know him?"

"I'm sure it just completely slipped her mind."

* * *

><p>Davidson was long gone. Kate watched the cops buzz through his place, carefully examining every shirt and shoe and item in the refrigerator and cleaning product in the closet, but there was nothing they could go on.<p>

"He was a cop, you guys," she sighed. "If he wants to disappear, my guess is, he can."

Ryan finished jotting down notes in the living room and came to rejoin her in the kitchen. "Big fat nothing, Beckett."

"Well, we tried." She tightened the belt of her coat.

"You want to go talk to Bracken?"

She pursed her lips. "Not - not quite yet."

"But - Davidson's his guy. If he's on the run, you know he would have asked his boss for help."

"Bracken's a politician." Kate shook her head. "He's going to be insulated from all this. He's not stupid. Let's wait until tomorrow."

Ryan frowned quizzically. "I don't get it."

"Tomorrow, we can officially declare Josh Davidson a missing person. We can go to the senator and tell him how worried we are that his security chief might be in danger." She grinned. "I don't want to tip our hand. Not yet."

* * *

><p>Rick knew Gina's schedule better than she did, a valuable side effect of the unhealthily close relationship editors had with their most valuable, prolific authors.<p>

He was perfectly aware that her housekeeper arrived an hour after she left for Black Pawn. He also knew she had the exact same security system that he had. He'd been the one who recommended it to her. Her building wasn't particularly hard to get into; the doorman only worked evenings and nights. There was a security camera in the elevator, but it only got checked if someone reported a break-in.

And he had no intention of getting caught.

When he heard the whine of the vacuum cleaner move to the bedroom, he slipped in the front door, secreting himself in Gina's spacious coat closet. He had to chuckle. Wouldn't Powell be proud? _Thief in the Night_ might have been one of his worst-selling novels, but the time he'd spent interviewing one of the most notorious jewel thieves in North America was proving to be handier than he'd expected at the time.

He could still just barely see through the slats in the closet door, and he watched Naomi tuck the vacuum back into the pantry, fold a few linens and take them to the master bath, and finally gather her purse and coat from the kitchen. And he watched carefully as she punched the four-digit code into the alarm before leaving.

He waited four seconds before darting out of the closet and quickly punching the in the same four digits, but backwards. It was the simplest feature of the security system, designed to foil intruders who thought the same code worked for 'arm' and 'disarm.'

Powell had mentioned this, too. _Everyone thinks it's foolproof, Rick. Nothing's foolproof, if you're not too much of a fool._

He listened carefully for Naomi's steps, hearing her leave down the hallway, and immediately headed for Gina's bedroom.

If Gina had hidden Alex Conrad's book, and the fact he was writing it, then everything was connected to that.

Of course, thinking about the plot - which he'd originally was just Alex's fertile imagination, simply rooted in the publishing world he'd started to love - it wasn't hard to guess why Gina wanted it squelched.

_Good plot, Rick. Now prove it._

Gina didn't like clutter; her place was elegant, with rich colors, spare furnishings, and carefully-chosen furniture. Space was ample.

He had a lot of searching to do.

* * *

><p>Back at the office, Kate stopped in the tech lab, where Tory and Ryan were scrolling through security footage from a convenience store in the Pullman district. "Anything?"<p>

Tory shook her head. "Your guy didn't stop here, and his car didn't drive past. Sorry, Beckett."

"Okay. I want to look at a new angle." Kate handed Tory and Ryan spec sheets. "This is a list of prominent hotels in the city. We need to check every hotel's records to see if either William Bracken or Gina Griffin stayed there in the past three years, and if so, we're going to need to check every frame of security footage."

Tory nodded. "You got it, Boss."

Ryan flipped through the list. "You looking for a sock on the doorknob, Beckett?"

Kate shrugged. "Everyone screws up eventually."

"Isn't that true," Tory muttered. "This one time, I was dating this guy, and he accidentally sent me a picture of -"

"Thanks, Tory," Ryan blurted out. "As interesting as I'm sure that story was going to be, maybe we can just agree that men are terrible?"

She beamed at him. "Your girlfriend's a lucky woman, Honeymilk."

"Guys. Case. Records." Kate tried to hide her smile. "Let me know if you find something."

"Fingers crossed." As Tory pulled up her search engines, Ryan pulled out his pen. "You know, you might be wasted as a Marshal, Beckett. You'd be a great P.I. You could wear one of those little deerstalker caps."

"I'm not jumping to conclusions. What we have is a theory," Kate told him. "Now we need evidence."

* * *

><p>Bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, walk-in closet, pantry, laundry room, living room. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.<p>

Rick was almost ready to give up on finding anything - even with Gina's perfectly tidy place, he'd found no proof she was really sleeping with the senator. Not that he'd expected to find a shirt with _WB_ monogrammed on the pocket, but still.

He was about to leave when his eyes fell on her desk. Rich, dark wood, a simple beautiful finish and elegant design. Very Gina.

The only thing on the desk that _wasn't_ her was the little train of toy elephants. Gina wasn't a fan of knick-knacks. They were pretty, but not what he'd expect.

He picked up the biggest one, turning it over carefully in his hands, tracing the delicate curve of the tusk. There was a thin, barely visible seam running over the elephant's back. Cautiously, holding his breath, he slid his thumbnail over the seam and watched the little glass elephant open, revealing a little black flash drive.

There were three more little elephants.

Two of them were empty.


	10. Chapter 10

At the library, in between the hundreds of microfilm records, Vera had pleaded with Castle to come stay with her and Joe. He'd refused; he had no intention of putting them in that kind of trouble, and even told her _I'd be shocked if you two didn't end up getting your phone tapped, Vera. I'm sure they'll come talk to you._

But she'd made him promise to stop by if he needed anything. She'd even given him her spare key.

Rick hurried into their little apartment, holding his breath, but it was empty; Vera was at the library for the day, and he assumed Joe was probably teaching his creative writing class at the community college.

There was an envelope on the kitchen counter, though, labeled _Rick_ in Joe's neat block handwriting. Inside, he found two hundred dollars in cash, and a note – _Just to help tide you over. Help yourself to anything in the fridge_.

Still wearing the thin latex gloves he'd worn at Gina's - one could never be too careful, especially when one was fleeing the long arm of the justice system - he settled at their computer, pulling out the two flash drives he'd found in the elephants.

* * *

><p>"Senator Bracken, thank you so much for meeting with us. I'm Deputy Kate Beckett, these are Deputies Javier Esposito and Kevin Ryan."<p>

"Nice to meet all of you," the senator beamed, reaching to shake everyone's hand. Firm grip, Kate noted, but not uncomfortably so. Strong, direct eye contact, too. "I appreciate you calling my assistant to set this up. You said this has to do with my security chief?"

She nodded. "A few days ago, the fugitive Richard Castle broke into Mr. Davidson's home."

Bracken nodded. "He mentioned that."

"We left a patrol car outside, just in case Mr. Castle came back or tried to harm Mr. Davidson, and as of yesterday, Mr. Davidson is missing."

Bracken blinked. "Missing?"

Espo nodded. "We've been searching the neighborhood, and we haven't seen any trace of Castle, but Josh Davidson is nowhere to be found."

"Have you heard from him?" Kate asked, watching what was, admittedly, not a bad veneer of false panic on Bracken's face.

"I haven't - he'd been working around the clock for several weeks, so I gave him a few days off. I wasn't expecting him back here until tomorrow."

Ryan jotted down a few notes. "In the past few weeks, Senator, had you noticed anyone out of place? Anyone at fundraisers, appearances, any kind of events that looked suspicious? Anyone paying too much attention to either you or Mr. Davidson?"

Bracken shook his head, tugging absently at his shirt cuffs. "Honestly, no. Josh is my security guy; he keeps a very close watch for anything like that, and the last time we discussed the campaign, he seemed satisfied with all the security measures we have in place."

"Have you ever met Mr. Castle?" Kate asked placidly. "We don't think Mr. Davidson had ever met him."

"I'd never met the man, and I don't think Josh had, either."

Kate nodded. "Thank you for your time, Senator." She handed him a card. "If you think of anything, or you hear from Mr. Davidson, please, give us a call."

Bracken flashed them a brilliant white smile, the one leering out from every campaign poster Kate had seen, all over the city. "Of course. Thank you so much, deputies."

* * *

><p>After replacing the flash drives in the little elephants and replacing them on the desk, Castle re-set the security system and left Gina's apartment for the second time, copies of each flash drive on discs carefully tucked into his jacket.<p>

He'd found mailing supplies in Vera's pristine little kitchen, and, stopping at the nearest post office, he dropped off two envelopes, each containing a copy of the two recordings he'd found. One was addressed to the U.S. Marshals' Office, care of Deputy Beckett. The other was addressed to his mother. And he kept one last set of recordings for himself.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the window of the post office - heavyset, greyed hair, lines and scruff on his face. He almost didn't recognize his own reflection, the tired man with the keen, desperate eyes.

There was a soft _thunk_ as each envelope hit the bottom of the dropbox, and he took a deep breath.

_The ball's in your court now, Beckett._

He hoped she was as smart as she seemed.


	11. Chapter 11

The methodical half of Rick said _That's it, you're done, now sit back and stay hidden_. But the rest of him was finally ablaze with the righteous fury of a man whose life had been ruined.

Now that he could actually afford the time, he sat back on his little bed, staring at the bare, splintery wall of the apartment he hoped he wouldn't have to stay in much longer.

He'd solved his wife's murder. Now what?

While he waited patiently for the United States Postal Service to finish his work for him, Castle decided, maybe he could do one last thing. One last clue for the marshals chasing him.

Besides, he was a novelist. He worked best with gestures. He had no intention of becoming the killer Gina and Bracken had tried to make him.

But that didn't mean he couldn't destroy them.

Besides. Letting out anger was healthy. He'd hate to get an ulcer.

* * *

><p>Kate had about three minutes in her office to take off her coat, sit down, turn on her computer, and attempt to check her email and inhale coffee before she was interrupted.<p>

"Beckett?" Esposito leaned into her office. "We just got a call from CPD. One of Bracken's campaign locations was vandalized last night. Fingerprints are a match to Richard Castle."

_What's your play here, Castle?_

"You tell them to lock it down?"

He nodded. "The lieutenant said as soon as they got the fingerprint match, they shut down the entire office and haven't done anything. They're waiting for us."

She was already pulling her coat back on and grabbing her precious coffee.

"Let's not keep them waiting."

* * *

><p>Kate ducked under the crime scene tape, watching uniformed cops swarming. There was a small crowd outside, hovering on the sidewalk, but judging from the lack of cameras and TV lights, the name <em>Richard Castle<em> hadn't been made public yet.

"Deputy Beckett?" A brisk-looking woman walked over, offering her a firm handshake. "Lieutenant Jordan Shaw, CPD. So glad you could make it."

"Nice to meet you. This is Ryan, this is Esposito." Kate nodded at the shattered windows of the store front. "It seems like you've kept our fugitive's name out of the report so far?"

Shaw nodded. "The minute we got here, I thought there was something strange. Let me show you."

She walked them inside, past the glass-covered pavement. The interior wasn't what Kate expected. Computers were untouched, furniture unbroken. Aside from a few campaign posters scattered across the floor, the room looked strangely normal.

"He didn't do much."

Shaw nodded. "Exactly. We got here, saw the window broken, but came in to find this. Out here, looks pretty harmless. But then we checked the back office."

They walked into rear office, Kate saw what Shaw meant.

"Oh."

It was Bracken's senior aide's office; behind the desk, there was a huge, full-size poster of a beaming Bracken, arms folded, in front of a pristine, bright American flag, a photo that could have fit any campaign for any politician, anywhere in the country.

But stabbed into the wall, right through the chest of Bracken's photo, were -

"Pens?"

"Campaign pens. Fancy ones," Shaw told her. "The poor intern walking us through the crime scene almost cried. Apparently they're expensive. Gifts for the biggest donors. He kept whining about how much money they cost."

Kate stared at the pens stabbed through the poster, biting her lip.

_Not subtle, Castle_.

Jordan folded her arms. "See, the thing that threw us, and why I figured this was more than just your average disgruntled taxpayer expressing his feelings in an inappropriate way, was the fact that this was basically all he did."

"He could have gotten interrupted," Ryan suggested. "Run out of time before he could completely trash the place."

"That doesn't explain the fingerprints." Shaw gestured to the front room. "No fingerprints anywhere. Nothing. No hairs, no fibers that we found. He broke open this door to the back office, but still, no fingerprints on the knob, the lock, anything. Not even a usable shoeprint. The _only_ fingerprints, in this entire crime scene, are on those pens."

"Lieutenant?" A young uniform poked his head in. "Sorry to bother you. Could you step out for a minute?"

Shaw left Kate and the guys in the office, and Esposito turned to Kate. "Okay, Beckett. You're the Castle whisperer here. What's he trying to say?"

"Remember the Meredith Castle crime scene reports? The interviews? Castle claimed the assailant dropped a pen." Kate let out a short laugh. "Shaw's right. This wasn't about the vandalism. He wanted us to see these pens. He knows Bracken's involved."

* * *

><p>Shaw agreed to hold the Castle angle out of the press for the time being. Kate had considered releasing it, but decided to keep Bracken in the dark for the time being. He probably suspected, but until she had something more concrete, she didn't want to give him more information than he already had.<p>

Kate didn't like politicians. In her experience, they tried to know too much.

* * *

><p>Back at the Marshals' offices, Kate dropped by the tech labs. "Hey, Tory. Any luck with those hotel records?"<p>

Tory shook her head. "Not much. I did find two records of Gina Griffin booking rooms, but Bracken doesn't appear on the surveillance tapes. Neither does Disappearing Davidson."

"Well, it was a long shot." Kate thought for a long moment. "You looking for a new project?"

"What do you need?"

"Check Davidson's financial records from the dates of Meredith Castle's and Alex Conrad's murders. Cash deposits, money transfers, credit card records. Anything that might connect him to either murder, or to William Bracken."

Tory nodded, tugging her long hair back into a ponytail. "See, it's times like this I'm glad I didn't marry that millionaire when I was in college."

Kate patted her on the shoulder. "You'd make a terrifying trophy wife."

* * *

><p>The day brought nothing. No leads. Kate wanted to tear her hair out. Hours later, she found Tory mired in financial records, with nothing more than <em>Maybe?<em> to report. Esposito came to report that no one had any leads on Castle's current location. Ryan came in to tell her no one had seen Davidson. Lanie called from the vandalized Bracken headquarters to say she and the CPD forensics team hadn't found any other clues. Castle had covered his tracks entirely too well.

Her phone rang.

"Beckett."

"Deputy Beckett, this is Martha Rodgers."

Kate straightened in her chair. "Ms Rodgers, ma'am. Something I can do for you?"

"I guess - I was just calling to ask if you've found my son yet." Martha sighed deeply. "I know you can't tell me much. But if nothing else, maybe I can remind you that my son is not a murderer."

"I appreciate hearing from you," Kate said quietly. There was something she instinctively liked about Martha Rodgers. The woman was a force. A bold, confident, daring actress with a dynamic presence. "We haven't found him yet. I promise, I will call you immediately, if and when we do."

"Thank you."

* * *

><p>Kate went home late, again, and collapsed onto her couch, rubbing her face with a sigh.<p>

_Where are you? What's your next move?_

He was meticulous; he'd clearly made a plan. Kate had read almost all his notebooks. Castle had a bold personality, and a big sense of humor, but he also had a sharp mind. Anyone who'd researched as many crimes as he had would know how to disappear. He'd know his only chance was to exonerate himself by uncovering the real killer. And he'd know perfectly well that he'd have to produce real evidence, something ironclad, something to take to a judge.

_Give me something I can use, Castle._

* * *

><p>The next morning, an envelope landed on her desk, addressed to <em>U.S. Marshals' Office, ℅ Deputy Beckett<em>.

In the top left corner, rather than a proper return address, there was simply written, _R. Castle._


	12. Chapter 12

The marshals picked up Gina quietly that morning in her apartment, before she left for Black Pawn. Her purse was on the kitchen counter, her coat draped over a chair, when they'd walked in; Kate breathed a sigh of relief as Ryan walked a grumpy-looking Gina out to the car. She'd been determined to bring Gina in outside the office, before anyone would see. Quiet. Unnoticed.

No chance to call Bracken.

Now, in the interrogation room, Gina sat across the table from Kate, her expression one of utter boredom. She hadn't called a lawyer. She hadn't asked for anything. Kate folded her arms, sitting back.

Gina Griffin wasn't a stupid woman. She edited crime novels; she knew the system. She probably assumed they didn't have anything concrete.

After a few minutes of silence, Kate decided to fire the opening shot.

"So nice to see you again, Miss Griffin."

"Could we cut to the chase, Deputy? I have a salon appointment at ten."

"I wouldn't worry. Your roots aren't showing too badly. I'd like to ask you about this man."

She slid a photo of Joshua Davidson across the table.

"You've showed me this before." Gina pushed the picture back with one finger. "I don't know that man."

"Can you explain why he called you?"

Gina froze. Kate watched the flicker cross the other woman's face, the first slight, nearly imperceptible crack in her composure. She knew Gina was recalculating. Apparently she didn't realize they'd traced the phone to her. This was the first time the Marshals had showed their hand.

_Got her_.

"No. Maybe it was a wrong number."

"Considering the call lasted more than a minute, we doubt that." Kate pulled another photo out of her folder. "Can you tell me who this is?"

"Alex Conrad. He was one of our young authors. He died in a car accident."

"Was he working on a novel at the time of his death, Miss Griffin?"

Kate knew the look on Gina's face. It was too calm. A mask. Gina was trying to figure out how much they knew.

"I - yes, I think so."

"Can you tell me what it was about?"

"It was some time ago. I don't remember it very well." Gina's voice was still even. Impressive. "What does this have to do with anything? That book never got published."

"Miss Griffin, are you acquainted with Senator William Bracken?"

Gina swallowed quickly, her throat bobbing. Kate saw the quick tension run through her arms, her fingers poised a little too neatly over her knee to truly be casual. "I've met him, yes."

"How well do you know him?"

The other woman shrugged. Kate bit back a grin. Gina had lost her ability to lie. She was overcompensating with gesture. "Not too well. I think we met at a party, a while ago."

Kate raised one eyebrow, opening up her folder again, pulling out three photos. She laid them out on the table neatly, watching Gina's eyes go wide.

"Perhaps you'd like to try answering that question again."

Gina looked up, then back at the clearly defined pictures of her in bed with a man who was very obviously William Bracken.

"Where did you get these?"

"I asked first."

"Yes, okay? We were having an affair. It's not illegal."

"Neither is writing a novel about a book editor sleeping with a married senator." Kate sat back in her chair. "I've read the novel. I have to say, I enjoyed it. That editor was particularly compelling. What was her name again? Katrina Riffkin?"

Gina was glaring at her, her jaw clenched. "What do you want?"

"Alex Conrad writes a novel about a book editor sleeping with a senator. He dies. Richard Castle takes on the project, not realizing the book is based on fact, and suddenly his wife is murdered." Kate smiled pleasantly. "You can understand I've started connecting dots."

"Alex's death was an accident."

"My forensics expert says otherwise."

"Are you accusing me of killing him? Or Castle's wife? Because unless you have some kind of evidence, Deputy, I have a job to get back to."

Gina picked up her handbag and was reaching for her coat when Kate pulled out a handheld voice recorder and pushed _play_.

_What the hell happened?_

_He wasn't home. She was. What was Josh supposed to do? She saw him._

_You really fucked up, Bill._

_You think I'm going to let some pathetic, arrogant little wanna-be John Grisham ruin my chance at the presidency because he wants to write a book about us? It was his own fault._

Gina was frozen in the doorway. Kate pressed _stop_.

"Should I keep playing?"

The other woman turned back, her face set.

"I had nothing to do with Alex's death."

"You think Bracken's going to fall on his sword for you? Of course not. I'm guessing that's why you made these recordings in the first place."

"Fuck him. It was all his idea."

Kate finally stood. "Gina Griffin, you are under arrest."

* * *

><p>They waited patiently until Gina's lawyer, a brisk, well-dressed woman in a pristine suit, walked into the interrogation room. "Deputy Beckett, I'm Victoria Gates. I'd like a moment alone with my client."<p>

Outside the room, Espo came to join her. "We got her?"

"Oh yeah. Give it half an hour." Kate rubbed the back of her neck. "If she already had incriminating recordings, then she clearly doesn't trust him. And she was shrewd enough to hold them as insurance. She's not going down for anything he did."

"Beckett! Beckett." Ryan came trotting over. "I just talked to Tory. Apparently, Josh Davidson got a raise in his pay, three weeks after Alex Conrad died. And then another one, right after Richard Castle was convicted of his wife's murder."

"Well, well." Espo grinned. "I bet he brought in the big account. Both times."

"Bracken's smart. He waited until after the commotion died down, so no one would suspect anything." Beckett shook her head. "Good thing he wasn't smarter than Gina."

* * *

><p>"All right, Deputy Beckett. My client would like to make a deal," Gates said as Kate walked back in.<p>

"I'm listening."

Gates glanced at Gina, who nodded, before going on. "She can give you William Bracken. For both murders. In return, you drop all charges against her."

"Does she want a puppy, too?"

Gates sighed. "She's handing you a sitting United States Senator. We're going to expect leniency."

"If what she gives me is true, and it holds up against Bracken, I can talk to the prosecuting attorney," Kate allowed, raising her hand. "If Miss Griffin wasn't responsible for the deaths of Alex Conrad and Meredith Castle, I will not seek murder charges."

"She stays out of prison?"

"You and I both know I can't promise that." Kate folded her arms. "But I can push for a reduced charge. As long as what Miss Griffin tells me is useful."

There was a long pause; Kate held her breath, watching Gina and her attorney quietly confer.

Finally, Gates nodded at Gina, who looked up at Kate.

"All right. What do you want to know?"

Kate pulled out her pen and notebook.

"Let's start from the beginning."

* * *

><p>Outside the interrogation room, Kate shut the door behind her, taking a deep breath.<p>

Ryan poked his head out from observation. "You got him."

She nodded. "Where is Bracken right now?"

"Headed for a TV interview. You want us to call him in?"

"No. Let's let him get there. Turn on the cameras." Kate smiled wryly. "Let's give the press a field day."

"You know it's going to be a madhouse, right?"

"We're arresting him for two murders. I wasn't expecting a cakewalk. Besides, Castle's probably watching the news." Kate reached for her coat. "If we're going to draw him out, he needs to know we got his message."

Esposito eyed her suspiciously. "Do you have a thing for this guy?"

Kate rolled her eyes.

"No, Javi. I'm just good at my damn job."

* * *

><p>The television studio was crowded when Kate and the boys arrived; she had to flash her badge over and over, edging her way through the sea of cameramen. She could see Bracken on the studio floor, flashing his campaign smile at the interviewer, adjusting the knot in his already-perfectly-straight tie.<p>

"Let's do this," Ryan murmured. "Time for some justice."

"Enough with the catchphrases." Espo elbowed him, pulling out his cuffs. "You're not Bond."

Kate ignored them, pushing resolutely through the front of the crowd.

She saw the moment Bracken realized she was there. His face went slack, his eyes flickering, and for the first time ever, she watched him lose his composure.

He knew she'd won.

"No. Not - you can't do this," he said quietly, desperately, leading the host to turn around, confused. The crowd of reporters started murmuring, cameras starting to flash, and as she stepped forward, the room started buzzing.

Kate locked eyes with him.

"William Bracken, you are under arrest for the murders of Alex Conrad and Meredith Castle."


	13. Chapter 13

Rick took as much of a shower as he could, washing the caked grey out of his hair, scrubbing the gritty remains of makeup from his face. The color swirled around the tub, darkening the water around the drain, and he let out a long breath, watching the traces of his disguise slip away.

A copy of the _Sun Times_ sat on the chipped edge of the sink, its front page vividly announcing _Senator Bracken Arrested For Murder_. Every television screen and radio and computer in the city was buzzing with the fact that the senior senator of the Land of Lincoln was in custody for the murders of Alex Conrad and Meredith Castle.A U.S. Marshal - unnamed - was quoted as saying _Our former fugitive, Richard Castle, has been exonerated. We now believe his original conviction was in error._

He shaved for the first time in a week, running his hand over the newly-smooth skin of his face, and combed his hair. Not perfect, but much closer to the Richard Castle he used to be. And wasn't presentation everything?

With a clean face, unwrinkled shirt, clean pants and relatively clean shoes, Rick took a deep breath.

Time to take the leap.

* * *

><p>"Beckett, you've got a visitor."<p>

She looked up to find Espo leaning in, an odd look on his face. "Another lawyer? You know they don't need to talk to me."

"Not quite."

He stepped back, and Richard Castle walked into her office, his eyes fixed on her.

"Hello, Deputy." He smiled wryly. "You've been looking for me."

"Yeah."

"I didn't kill my wife."

She let out a soft breath.

"I know."

There was a long moment of silence. It should have been awkward, but Kate just kept thinking about the pages of notes, the thousands of his words she'd scoured in an effort to find him. The clues he'd left. He looked taller now. He'd shaved, combed his hair. The man she'd seen in the library had looked worn out and hollow-eyed and desperate.

This man had won.

Kate blinked, collecting herself, her fingers flexing absently. "I'm going to have to take your statement."

He nodded. "I figured."

She led him to the interrogation rooms, shrugging off Ryan and Espo, who were at their desk, watching with undisguised curiosity. _I'm fine_.

"Here. I'll be just a second." She showed Castle to the room, and turned back to the guys. "Call the district attorney. And then call his family."

* * *

><p>Inside the interrogation room, Kate settled in the chair across from Castle. His gaze was fixed on her, his blue eyes keen, a sense of relief suffusing his entire presence. "You asked me to tell you a better story."<p>

Kate slid a legal pad and pen across the table at him. It was one of Bracken's campaign pens. She figured he'd appreciate the irony.

"Let's have it," she told him.

* * *

><p>By the time he finished giving his statement, Kate heard a knock at the window. She excused herself politely. "I'll be right back."<p>

"I'm not going anywhere," he grinned.

Kate turned away, her face flushing. After trying so desperately to get inside his head, she felt like she already knew him; she had to keep reminding herself that he was, essentially, still a stranger.

His mother and daughter were out in the bullpen, talking to Ryan and Esposito. Martha noticed her first, and immediately turned to her, impatient, hands knotted. "Is he -"

Kate nodded. "Let me get him."

She ducked back into the interrogation room; Castle looked up as she opened the door.

"Come with me."

He followed wordlessly, hands in his pockets, until suddenly Alexis shouted, "Dad!"

His whole face lit up, his eyes welling up with tears, as the girl raced to hug him and he pulled her into a bear hug. Martha came to wrap her arms around both of them, and Kate stood there, awkwardly, watching this little family reunion that might never have happened, her throat tight.

She walked away then, swallowing hard. As confusing and frustrating as the chase was, it was linear. It was a problem and a solution. Kate could handle that. She was good at finding solutions.

This was something she never got to do, though. She never got to mend a family. Her job was tracking down killers.

She never got to save a life.

Kate wiped away the stray tears she wasn't expecting, taking in hitching breaths.

She'd had a clear shot in the library stairwell. Just for a moment. She'd had him. And it was a shot she knew she would have made.

She hadn't told anyone that she'd let him go.

"Kate?"

She looked up, hastily wiping her cheeks, to find Martha looking at her, her face soft.

"Yes? I - sorry, I just -"

Martha pulled her into a hug, warm and gentle, wrapping her in a cloud of perfume.

"You saved my son's life."

"I just followed the evidence."

Martha fixed her with the keen look Kate was beginning to recognize as an inherited trait.

"You listened. You were willing to take a chance. I owe you everything, Kate Beckett."

* * *

><p>Kate sat in the back of the courtroom, watching the judge review the charges against Richard Castle.<p>

Castle had cleaned himself up; he wore a suit and tie now, and any trace of the desperate runaway was gone, his posture strong now. He conferred quietly with his attorney, but other than that, said nothing.

Lanie leaned over. "He's hot." Kate glared at her. "What? You can't tell me you haven't noticed."

_She's not wrong_.

Bracken had traded in his power tie for an orange jumpsuit. He was still deep in conversations with his little phalanx of lawyers, looking for any loophole he could find, but Kate had written up the case for the prosecutors, and she knew he wasn't going to weasel out of charges. The work was solid, and Gina had turned out to be an utter dream of a witness. Hell had no fury like an editor looking at conspiracy charges.

And then there was Castle.

"In light of these events, Mr. Castle, your conviction for the murder of Meredith Castle is voided. You are free to go, and you have the court's apology. You're a free man."

The gallery erupted as the judge pounded his gavel, and Kate took in a long breath, watching the Castle family hugging at the front of the courtroom. She'd pulled strings to have his assets and belongings returned to him immediately, and with his conviction overturned now, it was over for good.

She stood, buttoning her coat, and was about to leave when she glanced back at the defendants' bench. Castle was watching her, and when her eyes met his, he went very still, a grin tugging at his mouth.

Kate flushed, looking away, and followed Lanie out of the courtroom, biting her lip to try and hide the smile.

* * *

><p>She was halfway down the steps of the courthouse, trailing behind an impatient Lanie, when she heard the shout. <em>Beckett!<em>

She turned to find Rick Castle running after her, ignoring the trail of reporters hurling questions at him. She held her breath as he stood in front of her, tall and broad-shouldered.

"Deputy Beckett?"

"Yes?" Her heart was thudding against her ribs, so many words trapped in her throat, and if she could just catch her breath -

"I don't even know your first name."

"Kate." She gave him a small smile. "My name is Kate."

_fin._


End file.
